


The Blood Behind My Face

by Caelys



Series: Folk Horror AU [4]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Dread, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:16:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caelys/pseuds/Caelys
Summary: The brightest fires and the of emptiest people
Series: Folk Horror AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937206
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	The Blood Behind My Face

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short one, but in my eyes making it longer would ruin it. This piece is loosely based/inspired by the Four Horseman of The Apocalypse, which I am aware is a biblical, not a folklore concept. But guess what I make the rules and I don’t care. I also don’t think that this is a horror piece in the traditional meaning. But that being said I’m deeply in love with this experiment.

Infinite orange. Infinite heat. A rampant force that reached the sky. Brighter than the Moon and any star. Brighter than the Sun.

It was ugly.

Grotesque.

Vigorous.

The fire’s brute tongues were reaching. Up to the sky. Up to heaven. Trying to burn God alive. To make him fall on Earth. 

And beyond.

The fire was beyond the point of control. The crops were burning. Shivering down. The biggest field around Birmingham was in flames. And there was no one to stop it.

They didn’t expect that outcome. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They just had to kill them and get rid of the bodies. John’s face and hands was covered in ash. And sin. He was the one who lit the bodies. Because of him the crops were burning. He was the reason why this winter half of Birmingham was gonna starve to death. Men. Women. Children.

They didn’t want to do this. John didn’t want to be the cause for this. But it hadn’t rained in months. The ground was dry. Full of deep cracks, some of which reached the very debts of Hell that were destined for them.

The field was waiting for the littlest of sparks. It was ready to burn. And the two bodies were the perfect catalyst for the perfect tragedy.

They were there. Standing on the lonely road, watching it all go down. Watching their empire burn to the ground. First was the field. Last was Birmingham.

Finn was kneeling down. His face pale, silent tears streaming down his sides. He was just fifteen. A kid all grown up to finally be a part of the family business. This wasn’t what he expected. This wasn’t what he wanted.

“Get up, kid. We have to go” John tapped his little brother on the shoulder, but Finn didn’t move. His little body was stuck to the ground. “Finn, let’s go!”

John opened his mouth to say something else. To make his brother go. But Arthur’s lifted hand stopped him.

The oldest knew that gaze damn well. Face white as a sheet. Wandering eyes. Just by looking at his baby brother Arthur knew he wasn’t gonna move. Finn was in shock. It was a pure miracle he hadn’t thrown up yet.

This was the first time he had smelled a burning body. And unfortunately Arthur knew that it wasn’t gonna be the last. But the very worst was the smell of hair. It was so bad it was able to choke you.

Even once was enough. Even once was more than needed.

A smell cruel.

Vile.

It stuck in the nose for weeks. Impossible to forget.

Arthur easily lifted the youngest Shelby and threw him across his shoulder. Like a sack of potatoes. Just like the bodies were hanging from the horse, just a few hours ago.

Finn’s face met Arthur’s dirty shirt. Covered in dirt and soaked in blood. Crimson and warm.

What was burning inside his veins, was now scattered across like a stain.

Soon Finn was put on his horse. Arthur and John knew that he wasn’t gonna fall. They were sure. He was the best rider of them all. Slowly they took off. Heading home.

Ready to wash up the blood and dirt. To strip away the shame and guilt. Something that they have done countless of times. Something that was going to break Finn into little pieces.

He was now a Blinder whether he wanted it or not.

And in the meantime, Tommy was home. Staring at the bright orange line on the horizon. The deed was done. Life was taken. The only sound disturbing the peace inside his home was Cyril’s monotone snoring.


End file.
